


Red Over Green

by noraebangbang



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Breathplay, Flogging, M/M, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noraebangbang/pseuds/noraebangbang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seokjin missed his boyfriend Minseok, their dogs, their quiet life on the beach, and their room full of bondage toys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Over Green

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes conversations happen that lead to weird-ass pairings that you feel overwhelmingly compelled to write. This is a result of that. I am now manning this SeokSeok ship all by myself. *adjusts captain hat*

Seokjin closes the door. It’s been a long day, between filming a new episode of his travel show and having to help Minseok at the opening of the latest location of his coffee shop. Neither of them has had a moment to breathe, let alone be near each other. The cameras everywhere sanitized their relationship to an almost boring point. Although, so far as everyone else was aware, their relationship is boring.

Their life together, their public life, epitomizes normalcy. It’s dinner with their friends every first Saturday of the month. It’s splitting chores right down the middle and arguing cutely over who has bathroom-cleaning duty that week. It’s evening walks with their twin Jindos along the park path near their modest home. They’re boring, really, with how average they are, and Seokjin’s fans seem to love that.

And Seokjin likes it, too—the normalcy and the predictability. It brings a sense of comfort and stability that he’s grown accustomed to. It’s been like that for almost eight years with Minseok and he struggles to think of a good moment in his life that hadn’t involved his other half. And since they met, it had almost all been good moments. From growing out of having a single coffee shop to owning a national chain to Seokjin landing a cable television travel show, they’ve been on the up for some time.

The spotlight takes a lot out of Minseok, though; he does what he can to keep out of it, though it’s impossible at times when Seokjin needs him close by. He’s good at steeling himself and putting on an air of extroversion, for which Seokjin is grateful, but he knows that Minseok much prefers their quiet moments at home alone with their dogs.

Louder moments in the room don’t hurt, either.

They hadn’t had time or energy to spend in the room with each other in almost two weeks, and it was starting to get to Seokjin. He fidgeted more, frowned at fading bruises, spoke shortly to crew members. No one commented directly to him about it, but he was sure they’d noticed. And that meant having to  _make_ time, if time wouldn’t show itself readily.

He always enters first, and always does something of a lap around the room. Inspecting equipment, thinking about what he’d like to do for the evening, rearranging things as necessary. He pushes up his round-framed glasses and hums quietly to himself, a pleased smile creeping onto his face.

It takes him very little time to decide what he needs for the evening. He gathers his things, takes them toward the bed, lays them out neatly. Making sure he has things set up to use with Minseok gets his heart racing almost as much as actually using things.

He eyes the big digital clock on the wall, hanging above the king-size bed. 9:56. Four minutes until the time he’d given Minseok to come in. He nods to himself and adjusts things once more, then starts to undress.

The bruises on his thighs and hips look a sickly chartreuse now, not the more pleasing reddish  purple he loves. He sighs as he folds up his pants and places them on the side table, his hands shaking with anticipation. Three minutes. Three minutes and he’ll feel normal again. Happy. At peace. He wouldn’t have any public engagements for another two weeks, which means Minseok wouldn’t have to hold back this time. The thought makes Seokjin harden ever so slightly already.

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing into the mirror stretching from floor to ceiling across from the foot of the bed. He looks appealing, he’s sure, even with the old ugly bruises and the new bags under his eyes. He slips off his glasses and takes his collar—a thin, platinum chain link number with a toggle closure, a tiny padlock hanging down—out of the side table drawer, fastening it closed just as the door to the room groans open.

Their eyes meet easily and Seokjin tries to calm his heart down for fear of it slamming right out of his chest. Neither of them speaks, though the knowing smirk spreading on Minseok’s lips is enough. Seokjin clasps his hands together in front of him as he watches Minseok approach the bed to see what was chosen for the evening; he hopes, in a quietly desperate way, that Minseok approves.

At first, it had been almost kind of funny to figure out what they each liked. They’d spent nearly a year dancing around sexual preferences beyond occasionally switching up positions, but Seokjin felt a pull to have Minseok do more. To do more to Minseok. More what, he had no idea at the time, and only really got a clue after discussing an incident of accidental choking with a member of his show’s crew. Yoongi, tiny, blunt PD and longtime friend, mentioned a whole plethora of loosely related kinks when Seokjin blushed his way through explaining, and Seokjin wound up spending a fair amount of time reading any and everything he could on the topic. From that point, they’d experimented their way through practically every kink that even remotely piqued their interest.

Minseok doesn’t undress, because that’s the way Seokjin wants it. The way he studies everything Seokjin laid out makes Seokjin even more fidgety. He shifts on the balls of his feet, putting on a small smile to not look as nervous as he feels. Minseok sighs, just barely, and starts to roll up the sleeves of his white shirt. Seokjin smiles more genuinely at that and immediately kneels down against his massive fuchsia floor pillow.

It starts with a kiss. Every single time, without fail. Seokjin’s insides flutter at the feeling of Minseok’s plush lips tickling just behind his right ear. Minseok’s fingers rake Seokjin’s bangs back, though it’s futile as they just fall back into place, brushing against his lashes in the few seconds between Minseok turning away and facing Seokjin again.

“You need a haircut,” Minseok teases. He moves Seokjin’s hair again, slipping the blindfold into place with a quiet laugh shared between them both.

“I like it like this,” Seokjin decides. His hand leaves his lap to adjust the blindfold, taking care to block any slips of light from coming through. “ _You_ like it like this.”

“Oh right.” Minseok’s light laugh tickles against Seokjin’s ear and Seokjin hum-laughs at the tiny tug at his hair. “Ready?”

“Mm.” Seokjin nods some, lowers his head before Minseok can even direct him to. He’s been ready for weeks.

The first time Minseok’s fingertips, smooth and soft, slide down his spine, Seokjin shudders hard enough he’s sure he hears something in him crack. It’s only three fingers, and it’s barely even a touch, and yet Seokjin feels himself tensing in anticipation. Minseok strokes him again, slower, a bit firmer, and Seokjin tilts forward slowly until his back is curved, palms resting against the floor in front of him. The third touch—cold, sharp, stinging—coaxes a moan out of him.

“Again,” Seokjin mutters. He tenses his fingers briefly before laying them flat again, just as the sharp raking down his back comes again.

“Your back is so red already,” Minseok says quietly. The tender glide of Minseok’s fingers returns, and Seokjin whine makes Minseok laugh. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” Seokjin smiles, bracing himself for more scratches. The cat claw ring was a gift from Yoongi, and despite all the blushing involved in the exchange, it quickly became one of Seokjin’s favorites. Just enough pressure to leave welts along his skin, but not quite sharp enough to draw blood. 

Minseok leans in for another kiss against Seokjin’s temple, shifting his hand over just to the right. “Were you good at work?” he asks, and Seokjin feels another violent tremble start before he gathers his wits enough to shake his head. “No? Tell me what you did wrong.”

“I swore on camera,” Seokjin says. He moans again as Minseok drags the claw down his spine again from the nape of his neck. “I yelled at Jimin for screwing up a take.”

“That’s actually kind of funny,” Minseok laughs quietly.

“Minnie!”

“I’m sorry,” Minseok chuckles. “Sorry.”

Minseok shifts and Seokjin can’t feel his body heat or the steady drag of metal against his back. He turns his head as if that might clue him in, somehow forgetting about the presence of the blindfold for a split second.

“Up on your knees,” Minseok says with a gentle tap against Seokjin’s cheek.

Seokjin rises up easily, adjusting his position to gather more cushioning beneath him to keep his knees from being angry about this in the morning. He moves his hands behind him and hardly half a second later, the soft fleece of the wrist cuffs rubs against him. He smiles as Minseok tightens the restraints. The wiggling of his fingers leads to Minseok giving his hands a small reassuring squeeze before moving away.

Thin leather strips drag across the expanse of Seokjin’s broad shoulders and he works extra hard not to be overeager. He squares his shoulders, straightens up his posture, waits for Minseok to make the first strike. He expects it against his shoulders, but the flogger cracks against his ass instead, hard enough to startle a yelp out of him. He draws his fingers up out of the way and ignores how much they smart from errant strips hitting them. But the next hit is lower, against the backs of his thighs, and he almost falls forward.

“That’s strange, I don’t hear you,” Minseok comments. The next expected hit doesn’t come, and Seokjin whines again. “Sorry, what?”

“ _Fuck_ , Minnie, again!” Seokjin growls. “Please. I need this.”

“Think you can behave at work now?” Minseok asks. Another slap of the flogger against Seokjin’s upper back and he groans loudly. “Was that yes or no?”

“Yes!” Seokjin yells.

It’s nearly a sob, he’s missed this so badly. Something wet rolls down his thigh and he craves Minseok’s hand, or mouth, or both, against him to try and appease his almost painful erection. His fists clench again as Minseok strikes against his ass once more, and seconds later, he feels Minseok right behind him, pressed in close, his hard-on nestling comfortably between Seokjin’s cheeks.

A pleased hum gets cut short in favor of a gasp as Minseok jerks Seokjin’s head back, fingers wrapped within Seokjin’s hair tightly. Minseok’s other hand closes around Seokjin’s throat carefully, slowly, and Seokjin swallows hard. The cat claw ring digs against his neck and he tries to pitch forward some for more pressure. Minseok, stronger than he looks, holds him in place.

“Don’t move,” Minseok mutters, and Seokjin tries not to immediately fail as Minseok’s hand moves from his hair to between them. The sound of Minseok’s zipper suddenly becomes the loudest thing in the room and Seokjin wants nothing more than to rock his hips back, have Minseok inside of him, ride him hard.

Disappointment shudders through him as Minseok tilts his hips away and he struggles even more to stay still. His fingernails dig against his palms, thighs tensing, but he does as Minseok says. Minseok tightens his grip on Seokjin’s throat with a quiet moan, and from the steady movements against the throw, he’s sure Minseok has his free hand wrapped around his own cock. A quiet grunt of annoyance slips out and earns him another squeeze to his throat.

He smiles as Minseok drops his head against his shoulder, pleased that it’s followed so closely by slick fingers against his opening. It’s rough, and a little clumsy, but Minseok doesn’t usually prepare him left-handed. He barely minds, though; with every push of Minseok’s finger into him, the cat claw digs a little deeper against his throat, and he swears he’s going to come any second without even having his cock touched.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Minseok mumbles, already high on oxytocin. He nips at the nape of Seokjin’s neck as he works another finger in, his hips starting to rock in time with his hand movements. 

Seokjin smiles to himself, pleased that he’s not alone in his eagerness. He rolls his shoulders, keeping quiet to keep from getting jabbed in the throat harder than either of them would like.

There’s very little down time between Minseok moving his fingers and him pushing his cock into Seokjin, so little that Seokjin doesn’t even have time to whine about the loss of fullness. He moans, deep in his throat, as Minseok grips his hip to fuck into him with extra force. Minseok’s hold on his throat gets a little tighter, and Seokjin revels in tightrope walking over the chasm between consciousness and fainting. Minseok’s fingers dig fresh bruises into Seokjin’s hip, the two of them moaning in tandem. It’s a delight to Seokjin’s ears, the feel of Minseok’s hot breath against him and the vibrations of his lover’s moans shaking him inside. He could pass out from that alone.

Seokjin moans again as Minseok starts to suck hard against his shoulder blade, just barely clear of the last barely-visible hickey he’d left. The air restriction has him so hyper-aware he can almost hear the sound of this new hickey blooming. He thinks about jutting his hips back but decides not to push Minseok’s patience.

“Harder,” he croaks instead, and he’s not even sure if he means the fucking or the squeezing. Minseok, brilliant as he is, ups the ante on both.

The space between whiteness and the familiar darkness of the blindfold stretches longer and longer, until Seokjin pokes a finger out to jam against Minseok’s abs. There’s no hesitation between that cue and Minseok loosening his grip just enough. He slides his hand around Seokjin’s front, fingers stroking against his sack for a second before closing around his member. Hardly two strokes later, Seokjin comes with a stuttery groan. His orgasm makes everything clench, and Minseok cries out shortly before biting his teeth down against Seokjin’s shoulder. If he’d come to his senses in time, Seokjin would’ve asked Minseok to come on his face, but considering he hardly has breath to simply breathe, let alone talk, he closes his eyes at the heat spreading in him from Minseok’s orgasm.

“Oh holy  _fuck_ ,” Minseok pants, leaning against Seokjin heavily enough that they both curl forward some. The weight against his back makes Seokjin wince some, the welts decidedly unhappy about being touched that way. Minseok kisses gently along his spine, moving both hands to trail down. “I missed this. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Seokjin smiles. “But ow.”

“Right. Sorry.” One last kiss and Minseok pulls away. He uncuffs Seokjin and removes the blindfold before standing with a groan to slip out of the room.

Seokjin groans as well, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms into the air to get some circulation working again. He glances over his shoulder to look at the redness spreading around his back, the giant maroon hickey on his shoulder, and he feels more at ease than he had during his entire time filming on location. He sighs, then gets up to grab some tissues to clean his cum off of the floor, just about the same time that Minseok reappears.

“How long will you be gone the next time you leave?” he asks. He nudges Seokjin out of the way, pressing a damp washcloth to his neck, then takes over cleaning the floor.

“A week,” Seokjin says with a sigh as he climbs onto the bed. He flops down on his face, hugging pillows closer. “But that isn’t until two weeks from now.”

“Okay,” Minseok nods. Seokjin watches him try not to grin. “We’ll have to make the most of these two weeks, then.” He tosses the tissue into the trash, then moves toward the bed to give Seokjin a slow, soft kiss before brushing his bangs aside again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Seokjin says, laced with sleepiness. He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep before Minseok can get a bath running.


End file.
